Marshal's Wife
by Aerus
Summary: "And here, in the front of these witnesses, I bless your union." A "Heart's Desire" spinoff.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Marshal's Wife

**Genre: **Romance

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Éomer/Lothíriel

**Disclaimer: **The Lord of The Rings is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. This is a work of fanfiction, written for the enjoyment of myself and others. No finanfical profit is made by writing this.

**Summary: **_"And here, in the front of these witnesses, I bless your union.__" _A "Heart's Desire" spinoff.

**Author's Note: **Someone seriously needs to come and take away my computer or perhaps just knock me out when I have ideas.

When I was posting the chapters of Heart's Desire that take place before Éomer rides for war and Lothíriel is lost, **Talia119 **wondered whether the two would marry before his departure. Well, you know how that went, but the idea has not left me since. It got to the point that when I couldn't sleep lats night, I sat by my laptop and started to write. This is a short story of how things might have gone if they had indeed married before Éomer left. I'd apologise for all this Éomer/Lothíriel spam but that would mean I'd have to actually be sorry, and honestly there's never enough É/L in the world so there.

This won't be a long story, though: I can promise only two or three chapter at tops. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Up above the castle of Hornburg, there was a stone terrace. It was not very big and people rarely came there – in fact, not many knew of it in the first place – but from there, one could look over the Deep and see far away to the open lands – all the way to Fangorn, if you were an elf, they said. Why people did not often come there was because it was usually quite windy up there. In that height, one quickly began to think that wind might just take a hold of you and toss you over the edge.

But this morning, there was no breath in the air. It was very quiet, like it often is on that moment of dawn when the whole world seems to almost be holding its breath, like each sunrise was a miracle. And truly, such a place was the only real option for the ceremony: up there in the light of morning, one could almost feel that all the concerns of the world were far away.

Indeed, it was precisely that quiet moment of dawn and one would have expected that all those in residence would have been still asleep or just waking up.

However, there were altogether seven people on the stone terrace. Four of them stood aside: a blonde woman who did not seem to know whether she should smile brilliantly or sob silently into her handkerchief, a ragged man of Dúnedain, an elf, and a dwarf. The four of them were watching the three others, who stood only couple feet away.

The white-clad man was the oldest of them all, and there was a gentle smile on his face as he spoke quietly. His words were those of love, hope and devotion. On the front of him, two people stood facing each other: a tall man of Rohan, clad in simple clothes of green and brown, and a slender woman in blue whose appearance revealed she had blood of Númenor.

The man and woman were looking at each other in a way that suggested they did not even acknowledge the presence of others. In fact, their gazes were speaking in volumes at one another, as if there was an entire conversation going on between the two of them. He held her hands in his, almost like he was supporting something sacred.

"And here, in the front of these witnesses, I bless your union. Éomer of Aldburg, this is your wife: protect her with your strong arm and cherish her for all the days of your life, for she is your heart. Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, this is your husband: stand beside him and offer him your aiding hand in all the struggles of your shared years, for he is your strength."

The Rohir brought her hands to his lips, placing kisses on her fingers, and she looked at him with a blissful smile. Then they turned to look at the wizard, and she placed her left hand on the top of his right one.

A fond smile passed on Mithrandir's face when he produced a white ribbon from somewhere and bound it about the pair's joined palms. Then he let his own hands hover over them in a gesture of blessing.

"Go and be at peace. Place your trust in each other, for where there is love, there is always light."

And Éomer turned towards his wife and kissed her, and Lothíriel wrapped her free arm about his neck. She answered the kiss so enthusiastically that she lost her balance and he steadied her, and no matter what dark loomed in the future, there was _this, _they were wed, and he would always be hers.

Their embrace and kiss went on for long; and really, so occupied they were with each other that it took Gimli clearing his throat for the young couple to become aware of their surroundings again. When they turned to look at their friends, they wore almost identical looks of bliss.

Aragorn approached the two first. Resting his hand on Éomer's shoulder, he smiled at the newly-wed couple.

"I am happy for you both, my friends", he said softly. "May your time together be blessed."

"Thank you, Aragorn", said the Marshal of the Mark and cast a look of adoration at the woman beside him. The others came to congratulate them too, and Erfréa hugged Lothíriel for a long while before she found again her handkerchief to pat her eyes with. Gimli gave a mighty hug for both their midsections, while Legolas just smiled in that quiet way of his and said something in Sindarin that sounded like a blessing.

"I will take care of your uncle. I'll tell him that you will ride for Dunharrow tomorrow", Aragorn told Éomer. Then a smile touched his face, and it made him look somehow so much younger.

"Go and be together, for in these times, each moment of light and love is more precious than all the jewels of the world", Mithrandir urged, and the two needed no other prompt.

* * *

It had been Éomer's idea.

When the aftershocks of their lovemaking had started to fade, he had looked down upon her and the only way to describe his look then was "blissful" - she knew he couldn't look like that because she possessed any particular skill yet, but she decided it was because he was just as dazed because of this actually happening... because of being able to share this closeness and intimacy with her. She had felt a bit dizzy and so happy that it made her weak, and Lothíriel had been been fairly sure that she would not have been able to support herself at all for the moment.

"Marry me. Marry me today", he had pleaded, and his voice had been thick with emotion. She had briefly thought of how much in trouble she would be if she agreed, but then she had looked at the man above her again and all thoughts of her family's disapproval had disappeared. What did it matter what her uncle or father would say? She knew where her heart was... she had never been so sure about anything as she was about Éomer. And she would be damned if she ever let anyone tell her again what she should do with her life and who she should be with.

It was meaningless how she would be berated afterwards. What mattered was the man she had become to love so much.

So she had said yes, and a strange little noise had escaped from his throat. He had kissed her again and things had quickly gotten very interesting once more. Yet miraculously enough had actually gotten few hours of sleep that night, but before sun rose, they had gone to see Mithrandir and ask him to wed them. With the wizard's support, it would be easier to explain everything later; Imrahil liked Gandalf and Théoden King too had much respect for him, and if they could win the two of them, Denethor would have to comply.

Gandalf's face had not betrayed what he really thought of the request made to him on the small hours just before sunrise by two rather desperate-looking people, but he could not be negative for he had agreed to wed them. As for the witnesses, Mithrandir's three companions had been more than happy to be there, along with Erfréa.

And so, as the sun slowly rose on that morning of early March, after one great battle and the next one looming just ahead, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth was wed to Marshal Éomer of the Riddermark.

* * *

It was his chamber they ventured to. As a member of the royal house, Éomer had his own room in Hornburg that was kept ready for him, though his business as the Third Marshal rarely brought him here. As such, the furnishings were very meager, but it was still more comfortable than in her chamber. For one, the bed was not just a narrow bunk, and it also felt warmer.

Once the door was closed behind them, he pulled her into an embrace and kissed her. The kiss was long, gentle, and they lingered in it for a lengthy moment. After a while, Éomer pulled back slightly.

"I know it's not much", he said quietly, brushing his fingers through her hair. "This... well, I did not plan it to go this way."

Lothíriel smiled and placed her arms about his neck.

"It's all right, my dear", she told him softly and briefly kissed him. "Actually, I kind of like how simple this is. Nobody fussing about us or making a number out of it... just the two of us, all alone. It's fine."

That made him smile.

"We'll have a proper wedding when I've returned. In fact, I fear both our families will insist on it... the heir to the throne can't just go and marry", he commented and kissed her again.

"I think he can", she informed him, but then she decided there had been enough of talking already, and she fully focused on kissing him properly. A groan rose deep from his throat and he grasped her hips tightly for a moment, until his fingers started to impatiently tug at her gown. An agonizing need for him was starting to build inside her and eagerly she helped him to remove the dress. Her undergarments quickly followed, and as soon as she was rid of clothing, he lifted her up and quickly carried her to the bed.

Her husband wasted no time in removing his own clothes. Then he joined her on the bed and he pulled her close; there was something almost desperate about the way he touched her. But then, in the middle of one kiss, he pulled back just slightly and looked at her in concern.

"What is it?" Lothíriel asked.

"I cannot imagine it'll be very comfortable for you", he said at last and sounded kind of awkward, "after your first time..."

"It's fine. I want to do this. Please", she said quickly. Well, she was sore, but she'd be damned if she let that bother her now. "Just... be gentle, will you?"

"Of course, dear wife", he said softly and carried on from where he had left, which quickly re-ignited the passion. Lothíriel remembered briefly worrying to herself if he thought her very clumsy and unskilled, but if that was so, it didn't show; instead, when her fingers traveled over his skin and she studied his body with her hands, she could see he had trouble containing himself.

"My wife", he moaned and looked down on her with that same incredulous face he had had last night, as if he wasn't quite convinced this was really happening. _"My wife."_

"Husband", she answered, and finally it hit her: he truly was her husband now. After all the years of thinking him something like a faraway star, it was hard to grasp that now there was this bond between them... and though her father might be angry when he heard that she had married without his consent, there was really nothing anyone could do to make it undone. By Mithrandir's blessing, her fate was now irrevocably intertwined with Éomer's.

He kissed her and slowly entered her, and she gasped at the still unfamiliar sensation of him being _so close... _

"Are you well?" he asked and held himself in place, supporting his weight on his arms.

"I'm fine", she answered and shifted, feeling him move too. She breathed deeply and smiled at him in an attempt to console him. Suddenly, she felt his hand move, and then she felt his thumb brush over that particular tender spot, and the intimate touch had her hips jerking; she moaned and as his fingers caressed her, all thoughts of being uncomfortable left her.

After that, it was all gasps and moans and bodies meeting in this timeless dance of passion, and Lothíriel vaguely remembered him murmuring half-coherent love confessions in Rohirric, and apparently he was going to ride down the very Black Tower for her, and she mumbled something in agreement as finally she saw stars again. Afterwards, he gathered her in his embrace and she dozed off, feeling more content and at peace she would have thought possible.

* * *

"Lothíriel."

His soft voice brought her back to the waking world. Stretching, the newly-wed Princess enjoyed that moment between sleep and awake one moment more and then opened her eyes. He was sat beside her, golden hair mess about his face, sitting cross-legged, and gloriously naked while nibbling at a piece of bread.

"There's food. You should wake up and eat something, dear wife", he said and gestured vaguely at the tray beside him.

"Eat in a bed?" she asked and smiled at him. "I think that's on the list of forbidden things."

"Is it now?" he inquired as he picked up an apple from the tray. "Is it more forbidden than getting married to a Marshal of the Mark at sunrise?"

Lothíriel punched at his arm and sat up.

"It's the worst thing one could do, yes", she said and frowned. "What on earth am I going to tell Father when he hears of this?"

"Let me worry about him. I'm the one who persuaded you to do this, after all", said her husband. "Your father is not a tyrant. He won't have you flogged for marrying me."

"Hmm. Let's hope so. He should understand it when I tell him that these are not the times for waiting", she said. But then she pushed her father out of her mind as she had other things to focus on. She cast a look at the tray of food, "Where did this all come from?"

"I believe it is a gift from your friend – she had left the tray behind the door. Very thoughtful of her, I must say. I didn't look forward to getting dressed and going to the kitchens to find some food", he answered as he poured some mead for her.

"I must thank her later", Lothíriel commented as she inspected the tray. There was bread, some cheese, fruit, nuts, several ample slices of salted pork, along with the flask of mead. It certainly wasn't a grand meal but it felt like that to Lothíriel... for it was the first one she shared with Éomer as a wife and a husband.

"You know, this is actually kind of nice. Even if this is not how I'd have thought we'd be wed", she said after a moment.

"Mm. I like it too", he agreed. "I still would have liked a proper honeymoon, though... have you all to myself for a week or two."

"Would that even be possible for you?" she asked.

"Uncle can manage without me for a while. But I can't manage without you", said her new husband and leant over to kiss her.

"And I'll be waiting for you", she told him solemnly as he pulled back. Then she decided to bring the discussion to lighter topics. "What should I do once you go? Should I... hmm, make it known that I am your wife now?"

He thought about her question for a moment as he chewed his apple.

"That is a good question, yes... it does change your status now that we're married. And for all we know, a child may have already been conceived", he said thoughtfully. "For one, it makes you the member of the royal house. I'll write some notes for you, where I declare our marriage in case some fool tries to accuse you of lying, and..."

His face became grave at that and Lothíriel looked at him curiously.

"And what?" she asked.

"And if it becomes apparent that you are with child, you should be named the regent in case Uncle and I do not return", he answered at length.

"But you will. You will come back", said the Princess. She grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers; he managed to give her a smile.

"Yes. I will find my way through this dark... and back to you", he promised, lifting her hand to his lips so that he could kiss it.

"Have you given any thought as to where we will live once you come home?" Lothíriel asked after a while.

"Either in Aldburg or in Edoras, I suppose. Whichever suits you the best, though I think us both would do well if we settled in Meduseld. You'll be the Lady of the Golden Hall, after all, and Éowyn would be able to help you to get familiar with what is required of you. And Uncle will probably need me... I could use his help too. To become a good king, I mean", he mused, half to himself.

"You will do well. You'll be a good king. Just as you are a good man", Lothíriel told him, which brought a smile on his lips.

"Well, you are my wife. Of course you'd say that", he said. But then his eyes turned serious again. "My wife. I will never get used to saying that."

She smiled and climbed into his lap, and after that, other things than talking or food became more pressing – things that occupied them for a long while.

* * *

The soft light of late afternoon filled the chamber. Dust particles floated in the air, and Lothíriel watched their slow dance in light with half-open eyes. Nestled against her husband's warm body, she felt safe and peaceful. It was hard to believe this bliss could only last for today, and that tomorrow he would be gone. Idly she ran her fingers back and forth on his skin, feeling the strong muscles, the golden hair on his chest, the old battle scars of fights long past. He lay so quietly that one could almost have believed he was asleep.

Lothíriel sighed and snuggled closer. She was feeling so sore that it'd be a wonder if she would even be able to walk the next day. The man beside her had some stamina; she had commented on it and he had let out a muffled laugh.

"You should have seen me when I was ten years younger than now", he had said. That had made her snort and she had tried not to think of too much of the other women he had been with. Luckily he had done things then that had effectively distracted her from anything else.

She had, however, told him that perhaps he should ask his uncle for a leave of week or two once he'd return, because she didn't think they would be able to leave the bed for quite some time.

"Does it ever bother you?" she asked after a while. "I mean, that I'm 8 years younger than you. Am I too childish? Inexperienced?"

"Lothíriel, you're being absurd", he told her in a steady voice as he lifted her head so that he could see her face. "Your age does not bother me. It never has, really. I... I've never seen a girl or woman of any particular age when I've looked at you. I just see someone I love beyond anything in this world."

That moved her and almost made her cry. But she couldn't start sobbing here and now when she was so happy. So, instead, she smiled.

"You do know how to talk to a woman, dearest husband", she told him.

"We Rohirrim are natural lovers", he said nonchalantly, humour sparkling in his dark eyes.

Lothíriel climbed to sit in his lap, and then she leant down so that her lips were almost on his, and her dark hair cascaded about their faces like a curtain of black silk.

"Then love me some more, O Marshal of Mark", she whispered.

"I don't think I could love you any more than I already do", he answered softly, running his hands over her back. Then he smiled, "But I will try."

And that he did.

* * *

The night had fallen and outside, the moon was riding high. Lothíriel was already fast asleep but Éomer was not quite ready for rest yet. Instead, he was sat at his desk, writing the notes he had promised for her before.

He hoped those would not be needed, but he knew it was necessary for him to provide her with these notes. After all, the wedding ceremony had been very small and not exactly how the Rohirrim usually married – and Marshals even less. It had been his idea and he'd be damned if he left her without protection and safety while he was gone. Here in Rohan, it was as easy as that: a man was known to keep his word and marriages of haste were often seen in the Mark during times of war. Really, Éomer was fairly sure that the Rohirrim would think nothing of him taking the Princess as his wife; the only thing they - and his men in particular - would complain about would be the two of them robbing people of a good excuse to celebrate. The real problem would be convincing her Gondorian family that this was indeed an abiding marriage.

Éomer had written three notes entirely; one he would give to Lothíriel, one to Erkenbrand, and one for Gamling. For his uncle, he'd bring the word himself. Both were good men and they would keep her safe while he was gone. He'd tell her go to Edoras, where she would be safe with Éowyn... and there he'd hopefully meet her again once the deeds of war were done.

With a sigh, he sealed his letters and stretched. It was scarcely past midnight and he could still catch a few hours of sleep, which would be most necessary. Who knew when he'd be able to rest properly again?

So he returned to bed and crawled under the covers, seeking the warmth of her body. Pulling his wife into his embrace, Éomer let himself sink into few more hours of this waking dream where she was finally his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The night had already fallen when Éomer King of Rohan finally rode up that last hill and saw Aldburg, the town of his birth and childhood. He was soaked to the bone and most of his musings of last couple hours had consisted of wondering whether he'd ever feel dry again. The rain had continued for all the day, varying between soft drizzle and proper downpour.

But ever since they had started to get closer to Aldburg, another thought had started to take hold. That was of seeing the face of his wife, then sharing a hot meal with her, and a bath. After that, he'd lock the bedroom door behind the two of them... and he'd make love to her until he passed out because of sheer exhaustion. Then he'd sleep for the good part of next week and he'd only consider getting up if the sky fell.

It was a very nice thought. After all, he had not seen her ever since he had left the day after their secret wedding... which made two months now.

Had it just depended on him, Éomer would have raced back to Edoras fresh from the Battle of Morannon. Well, _Marshal _Éomer would have probably even done that. But _King _Éomer had to think differently, even if _man _Éomer would dream of his wife every day and night and feel her absence as something almost like pain in his chest. But fortunately there had been much to be done in Mundburg, and most of his days had been filled with negotiations and socialising and making plans for the future. Somehow, he had been able to endure the time, and that was not in little part because he knew their reunion would soon take place. And hopefully that reunion would be for ever.

To his relief, Imrahil had been most gracious about his daughter's marriage, even if it had come as something of a shock. When Éomer had first explained the situation to the Prince, the older man had stared at him in astonishment. When he had tried to talk, no word had come out, and finally he had just sat down to try and wrap his mind about the information he had just received. At first Éomer had taken it as a sign for him to run for cover, but surprisingly Imrahil did not even seem angry when he finally got back his voice ans spoke.

"Well, I must say I certainly did not expect this when I first sent her to Edoras", he had said at last and shaken his head in disbelief. Then he had given Éomer a stark look, and spoken again: "I know you are a man of honour, and that the only reason you would do something like this is out of great love and of great despair in the face of what is to come. Believe me, I understand the need for consolation in the arms of love. However, when you leave for your home, I will send my son Erchirion with you, for I wish to know what my daughter has to say about this. I would come myself, but Aragorn needs me here in Minas Tirith. And I hope that you will bring her along once you return to claim the body of your late uncle."

As it was not a big thing that Imrahil asked, Éomer eagerly agreed he would do so. He had even told his friend that he had been fearing much stronger response. But the Prince had smiled, somewhat sadly, and said: "I know my daughter, Éomer, and I know a good man when I see one. You are not someone to deceive a woman to marry you... and so she must have married you because she wanted to. Perhaps it was a decision made in haste, but I'm not sure it was a wrong one for her, not in the long run. I can see the love in your eyes when you speak of her and that is the only reason I haven't yet tossed you out of the window yet."

Then, at last, a look had come to Imrahil's face, and if that look should be somehow described, it would be the expression of a lion protecting its young: "And if it turns out that this marriage cannot last in real world, and if you make my daughter unhappy, I am going to murder you."

Even though Éomer knew where his heart lay when it came to Lothíriel, and he had nothing but good expectations to their marriage, he had still shivered under the look her father gave him.

Clearing things out proved to be easier than Éomer would ever have thought. For one, the only one who might have protested – that one being Lord Denethor – was dead, and the King's scribes affirmed that Aragorn's presence at the wedding ceremony accounted as the royal consent to the Princess' marriage. As the heir apparent and now the crowned King, Aragorn had the ultimate authority in the matters of royal marriages, and he was more than willing to reaffirm Lothíriel's leave to marry Éomer.

It did rouse a fear in the young king though: what if, when he returned home, she wouldn't be so welcoming? What if she had started to regret marrying him in such a way? Lot of things could happen in two months... of course messengers had ridden back and forth between Edoras and Mundburg, but brief notes were never the same thing than seeing each other face to face.

In the end, his sister had been the most aggravated by the whole thing. Not that she disapproved of her brother's marriage per say, but according to her it was just the kind of deranged thing one could expect of her hot-headed brother. She had given him a mightily unimpressed look and told him that he was an idiot, and that he should be whipped for treating his Princess with such thoughtlessness. But in the end, after preaching at him for some time, she had hugged him and even given a small helpless laugh, saying: "I should have seen this coming the moment I saw you two together."

As for Erchirion, he seemed to be pleased for the chance of visiting Rohan – or at least until the rain had started. Éomer had worried whether his wife's brother was very angry, but the prince had just smiled and said: "It's fine, friend. I know my little sister, and it's always been kind of obvious that she's completely in love with you. To be honest, I expected to hear of your marriage much sooner than this. Father just hasn't really realised that yet because he still sees her as his little daughter."

And now Éomer was back in Rohan again, and hopefully he'd see his wife as soon as he'd ride to Aldburg. He had sent a rider before his own company and the Rohirrim, to notify her of his return, and to ask her to join him in Aldburg. Now it made him feel a bit guilty, as the rain kept pouring down, and he hoped she had not travelled in this abysmal weather. The last thing he wanted was her to fall ill.

"I don't think I've ever been so happy to see Aldburg before", commented Éothain as he came to ride beside his King as they followed a path down the hill towards the old town of Eorl the Young.

"It is a sight for the sore eyes, yes", Éomer agreed quietly.

"Something wrong, my lord? Or is it just the rain that is bothering you? That would be the first time, though, after all the storms you've made us ride in..." Éothain said, attempting for a jesting tone, but his voice died at the sight of his king's expression.

"It's not the weather", Éomer said, unable to conceal his concern. "I was just worried if... if she will be happy to see me."

"You're seriously asking yourself that _now?" _Éothain asked and his voice was disbelieving. "Really, Éomer. You're starting to lose it in your old age. She's the last person whose constancy you need to doubt."

"I know", said the young king and straightened up in his saddle. He'd see her soon, and she'd smile, and he'd call himself stupid for ever harbouring these fears.

Finally, they rode into the courtyard. Stablemen came for horses and sudden bustle filled the yard despite the rain. Eagerly, Éomer searched the double doors of the Marshal's Hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of her... she would be there waiting for him, wouldn't she?

But Lothíriel's familiar face was nowhere to be seen and Éomer was already starting to feel worried. _It's just the rain, _he told himself, _she'll be waiting inside. _

Éowyn and a miserable-looking Erchirion dismounted too. Though she was not any less soaked than the rest of the company, Éomer's sister was wearing a face of someone whose peace of mind would not be faltered by anything less than Sauron riding from the sky, as terrible as he had been on the days of his power.

"I imagine you'll be preoccupied with... many things", she said, and her meaning was not lost to her brother. "I'll see the prince taken care of."

"You don't want to see your sister?" Éomer asked Erchirion, but the prince shook his head and gave a weak little smile.

"I don't think she'll have any time for her old brother now. Just tell her I'm here and would like to talk to her as soon as you two, hmm, aren't busy anymore", said Imrahil's son, keeping his calm rather impressively.

Éowyn lead Erchirion inside and as if by summon, Gamling approached the King, along with an aged Rohir named Oferlof, the old captain of late Marshal Ánfeald. He had retired from active duty when the old Marshal had died, though he still took part in training the young riders. Oferlof had been left in charge of Aldburg when the Rohirrim had ridden to war.

"My lord", Gamling greeted the Lord of the Mark and bowed his head in respect, "welcome back."

"Gamling, Oferlof. Good to see you old warhorses", Éomer answered, still casting anxious looks towards the doors of his old home.

"I can take it from here, my lord. You should go inside before my Elfgifu takes you for a drowned rat", said Oferlof, his bright eyes sparkling with mirth. The old captain never seemed to lose his good humour; Éomer had always been on friendly terms with the man and his jest did not insult him.

"That would be most grievous, yes", he agreed and patted the old man's shoulder. Then he strode for the doors, Gamling by his side and Éothain on his heels. It felt strange coming back here, for the last time he had been here, he had been just a Marshal. Now respectful bows were made at his direction from everywhere, along with exclaims like _"min Cyning!" _He had been the Lord of the Mark for less than two months and he felt he would never get used to it.

"I am sorry for your uncle, Éomer. The news of his passing were most heavily received", said Gamling quietly. He was one of those men you'd expect to live forever and endure longer than the very mountains. Indeed, to Éomer it seemed that Gamling had been old already when he had been a mere boy, but still the man persisted with apparently inexhaustible life force.

"Thank you, old friend. My uncle will be most sorely missed, but I try to think his death was not in vain", Éomer answered quietly. But he could not think of his grief for the late king now. There would be time for that later. "Tell me, is my wife here in Aldburg?"

They had come inside now and Éomer tossed his helmet to the waiting arms of young Léohtir who was now serving as his esquire. He was already looking towards that moment he'd get to peel off the heavy armour he wore, and he pitied the poor bugger who would have to care for it. Water and mail did not usually mix too well.

"I'm sad to inform you that my lady Queen was not able to join you here in Aldburg", Gamling said carefully, watching Éomer with an intent look in his eyes. That instantly made the stone on his heart turn two times heavier than it had already been.

"Is something wrong with her? Is she sick?" he demanded to know.

"No, not at all. She is well, for the most parts. She was just feeling a bit ill this morning and Mistress Léah and Máster Flód decided it would be for the best for your wife to stay in Edoras, especially in this weather", answered the old man quickly.

"So she _is _sick?" Éomer asked, his voice rising. "I must depart immediately. I will need men, and I have to-"

He was in the middle of frantic speech when Éowyn appeared. That look of serenity she had worn before seemed to have somewhat subsided.

"Brother, you're not going anywhere in this weather, and certainly not before you have had some rest", she said and there was iron in her voice as she spoke. She was probably the only person in the world who could use that tone with him without an argument.

"Éowyn, my wife is _ill. _I am not going to sit here and-" he tried, but again she interrupted him mercilessly.

"Master Ferdbrego has already informed me of the Queen's health and he tells me that she's perfectly fine. You would just be wasting everyone's time if you leave for Edoras now", she said calmly. "Everyone here, including you, is in a need of a hot meal and a good night's sleep, brother."

"Lady Éowyn is quite right", said Gamling, casting a thankful look at Éowyn, "In fact, your wife told me to keep you here for the night, should you arrive before nightfall. She tells you to have a good night's rest, and she also asked me to tell you that she loves you very much."

That finally consoled the young King somewhat. True, he still had an odd feeling about this all, but he trusted his sister and Gamling. They knew how much Lothíriel mattered to him and they would not have lied to him when it came to her.

"Fine. But if I find her in less than perfect health tomorrow, I'll have you both publicly whipped", he told them. Suddenly, he felt very exhausted. As a matter of fact, he wasn't so sure how he'd have even jumped into saddle, not to mention ride all the way to Edoras. He really needed sleep.

His sister gave him a stern look – it kind of reminded him of their mother, bless her soul.

"Éomer, when was the last time you had proper rest?" she asked.

"I... to be honest, I can't remember", said the King at last. Indeed, even back in Mundburg, he had been putting off sleep, which she probably knew. At least her look of displeasure would have him thinking so.

"Precisely. Go and rest, brother. You won't be of much use to your wife if you appear on the front of her looking like you're half-dead, and I really think you should not surprise her like that. Gamling and I can take care of everything here", she told him, and her voice was that of someone who would not suffer arguments.

"All right, sister", Éomer gave in. "I will go and sleep."

"Good. I'm glad to see there's at least bit of sense in that thick skull of yours", Éowyn said, smiling at last. Éomer rolled his eyes and muttered to himself about oppressive Furies and how Faramir had no idea what he was getting himself into as he made his way towards his chambers.

But when he finally lay his head on his pillow and felt the much needed sleep creeping to him, it was his wife that he thought of.

_One night more, my love, and then we will be together again. _

* * *

It had been raining for good part of the day. Léah said it was not so uncommon on this time of year, and that rain like this brought forth one of the most beautiful days of the year.

"Believe me, my lady. Tomorrow you will see the spring of Rohan in its full glory", the older woman had said, smiling softly. Perhaps that was the right setting for seeing _him _again, after being parted from him for almost two months. It seemed like such a long time, and Lothíriel would have liked nothing better than riding to Aldburg today.

But as she had felt so sick in the morning, Léah and Master Flód had told her not to go. In fact, it had looked like the two would lock her in her room if she tried to leave. And then the rain had started and Léah had given her this immensely strict look.

"This is no weather for you to travel in, my lady. You need to stay healthy now", she had said, and at last Lothíriel had given in.

The grey light of waning day cast shadows on her chamber walls as Lothíriel lifted her eyes from the book she had been trying to read and cast a longing look towards plains for the hundredth time. She knew he would not arrive until tomorrow, but she could not help her anxiety. He probably was already inside the borders of his realm...

Two entire months of Éomer's absence had gone by. Certainly it felt longer than that, and she was actually kind of scared when she thought that maybe he would return a changed man... maybe he would think it had been a bad idea to marry her. She had even had this nightmare where he had somehow concluded their marriage was invalid and sent her packing. But Erfréa had patted her arm gently and told her she was being silly, and that it was probably just natural that she'd have weird dreams at this time.

"Trust me, friend. He'll be all over you the moment he sees you again, and I don't think anyone will be able to peel him off you before a week or two has passed", she had said.

Léah had maintained the same notion and she had suggested that it would perhaps be wise to send Gamling in her stead to Aldburg; the old captain would be able to hold Éomer back if the King got the idea he had to ride for Edoras in the middle of night.

"Perhaps you should send couple of words for your lord husband and tell him to stay in Aldburg for the night. Otherwise he'll probably ride here like a maniac when he hears you're not there to receive him", she said thoughtfully. Indeed, it did sound like Éomer to come racing here, and he would do it even if it was raining swords and orcs instead of just water.

She had missed her husband, so much that it had sometimes felt like a part of herself was gone. And she had feared for his life, right until the day when word had arrived that the war was over and he was well. For the most of past two months, Lothíriel had stayed in Edoras: two days after Éomer's departure, Erkenbrand had personally escorted her to Meduseld along with Gamling, who had stayed with her ever since.

"As the future Queen, I should think your place is in Edoras", the old captain had said when they had set for the capital of Rohan. He had never indicated that he was somehow displeased because of her marriage to Éomer. Instead, he had smiled and said that he was happy for the both of them, and that his men would protect her with their lives – and so, ever since the day she had arrived to Edoras, two guards always stood behind her door. Lothíriel had feared how people would receive her now that she was Éomer's wife, but no resentful mutterings had come to her attention. Perhaps she owed that also to Gamling's presence; his unfaltering support had made her feel more confident too.

The only critique she had received had been from Captain Aradhain, who was apparently immensely displeased and irritated, muttering to himself how Imrahil would murder him once the Prince heard. But he had been powerless to make undone what had already happened, and so he ghosted about in Edoras, always wearing a sour look and waiting for further commands from Imrahil. After all, Lothíriel's marriage to Éomer effectively made her a member of royal house of Rohan, and as such Swan Knights weren't needed like before.

Lothíriel was still vacating the chamber she had been given ever since arriving Edoras... but she knew the royal chambers were already being prepared for when Éomer would return. Lothíriel had wondered if it was early for that, but this determined look had come to Léah's face. Nostrils flaring, she had said: "I will not have him cram you into that closet he calls a chamber."

But in the end, months had gone by surprisingly fast, and they had been filled with work. Not only had there been attending to the household with Léah, but also preparing the house for the King's arrival... and other impending things, too.

A knock on the door distracted her from her thoughts and she called the guest in; Erfréa's face appeared at the door.

"Oh, good, you're still up. I thought I should come and tell you that a rider just came from Aldburg. The King has safely arrived and will spend the night there", said the younger woman as she sat down at the foot of Lothíriel's bed. "Are you cold? How do you feel? Do you need something?"

"Stop worrying about me already! I'm feeling fine", said the older woman and gently slapped the hand of her friend. "Anyway, it's probably good that he decided to stay in Aldburg... even if I'm anxious to see him again."

She fell silent, but then another thing came to her mind, and she asked: "Did the rider say if... if my husband knows already? Has someone told him?"

Erfréa smiled, not unlike a secret conspirator.

"No, not that I know. I'm sure Éowyn will make certain no one tells him. It'll be a complete surprise", she reassured her friend.

"That is good. I'd rather him learn the truth when he comes home, not before..." Lothíriel said, smiling softly. "It's good to have Éowyn back, too. I've missed her a lot."

It had been bit of a shock to hear of what Éowyn had done, and before word had arrived from Gondor, Lothíriel had taken her sister-in-law for forever lost, as no one had seen her ever since she had ridden to Dunharrow before the Rohirrim had ridden for war.

"Yes, Meduseld doesn't feel _right _without her", Erfréa agreed.

"How is Móna?" Lothíriel asked then, her voice careful as ever when they talked about their friend these days. The younger woman's face turned solemn at the mention of the poor girl.

"As usual. Mother is contemplating whether she should send Móna to Minas Tirith. The healers there know more of treating those with afflictions of mind, and she thinks a change of air might do Móna well", Erfréa said and shook her head.

"That does sound like a good idea. And we should be able to visit her often, especially now that the relations between Gondor and Rohan have been renewed", Lothíriel agreed softly. Feeling something to lighten the mood was in order, she said: "I'd even take her to Dol Amroth, but I don't think I'll ever dare to visit home again. Aunt Ivriniel will probably murder me at the first sight."

"She can't be that bad", Erfréa argued.

"Oh, she is. A secret marriage, with no consent from my father or a proper betrothal time, to a Marshal of 'barbarian people' is about the worst thing I could do in her eyes", said the Princess and made a face of intense suffering.

"In that case, it might be wise to wait couple of years", said her friend. "And who knows? Maybe she'll completely fall in love with your husband once she sees him. You're going to have a wedding ceremony, aren't you?"

"We probably will have some celebration sooner or later. That's what everything expects anyway. Perhaps some time next year, after... well, you know", Lothíriel said, a slow smile spreading on her face.

"That's probably a good idea. I don't know if anyone has a time for proper royal wedding so soon after war", Erfréa commented, and then her expression turned into a grin. "You're doing it again, Lothig."

"Doing what?" asked the older woman.

"Glowing, my friend. You look so happy that one would think you'll start floating any moment", Erfréa said, giving Lothíriel's foot under cover a gentle squeeze.

"Well, what can I say? Tomorrow, I'm going to see Éomer", said the Princess, not even trying to hide her blissful smile this time.

"Ever the more reason for you to try and sleep now while you can", Erfréa said and stood up. "If you look tired or ill tomorrow, he's just going to panic and you know how that will end."

"Oh, yes. I have a feeling we're in for many, many royal panic attacks", Lothíriel said and rolled her eyes, and her friend laughed.

"Good night then, my lady Queen", said the younger woman in an exaggerated pompous voice.

"I told you I won't have anyone call me the Queen before Éomer has come home and our marriage has been properly confirmed", Lothíriel reminded her friend, who sniggered of course.

"Yes, yes, I know. Stop complaining and go to sleep", Erfréa said.

"Good night!" said the older woman in a tone that hopefully conveyed finality. Her friend laughed at that and exited.

Laying aside the book and blowing out her candle, Lothíriel settled back in her bed. Once she had found a comfortable position, she sighed and thought of her husband, who was now so near. And she thought of future... of how one time of waiting was now coming to an end, while another would still go on for some time. She smiled to herself when she thought of how he'd look when he'd hear the news...

Resting a hand on her belly, which had barely started to swell, she smiled and spoke softly in Rohirric: _"Your Father is coming home, little one." _

* * *

**A/N: **My muse is still crazy. Someone please come and take away my laptop.

* * *

**Talia119 - **Thanks for your kind words! :)

So, why didn't Théoden participate? I should probably have made that clearer in the text itself, but I confess I completely forgot about that. Anyway, on a purely personal level, I believe he wouldn't mind it at all. If anything, he'd be glad and I think he would have loved nothing better than attend and see his nephew so happy. But he's not just an uncle - he's a king too. So from that perspective he would have felt compelled to intervene, because Lothíriel is technically under his protection and a member of a foreign royal house. Éomer likely knew this and so he left Théoden in the dark - also because he didn't want to put his uncle in a difficult position in regards to Imrahil and Denethor.

It seems there's just going to be one chapter more, because like you said, I do have those other stories going on, so I'd rather have this wrapped up as soon as I can.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The night of late August was warm as the heat of sun lingered in those hours between dusk and dawn. In fact, it had been so hot when they had settled in bed that Lothíriel had demanded a window be opened for a bit. Argument had followed that of course: he had told her he would not suffer her catching cold and she had kept insisting that he had no idea of how much air she needed at the moment.

"I am breathing for two, Éomer! I need air!" she had exclaimed, her voice quickly rising almost into a screech. She was still having these moods, which perplexed him much as they were not like the Lothíriel he knew.

Nevertheless, he had given in after all and his pregnant wife had happily settled in the curve of his arm. After shuffling about for some time, she had let out a contented sigh and again become the sweetest thing on all Middle-earth. Apparently his body heat did not bother her one bit.

But now, as Éomer slowly drifted back to the waking world, she was not there curled up against him, where she had been each night ever since he had ridden home. That realisation brought him to full consciousness at once.

He sat up and looked about: their bedchamber was empty and quiet. Where could she have gone at this hour? He was almost at the verge of shouting for a guard to make an alarm when he remembered that sometimes his wife got really hungry in the middle of night. It wasn't those mad cravings she had apparently gotten in the beginning of her pregnancy – just her body requiring sustenance as their child grew under her heart. Usually, a plate was kept for her by the bedside, but apparently that had been forgotten, for Éomer could not see any food there now.

Yes, that was it. She had gone to get something to eat.

He got up and put on some clothes, as it wouldn't do for the Lord of the Mark to wander about naked – even if it was night and no sensitive maiden was likely to cross his path. Éomer knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep as long as she was gone, so he might as well go and keep her company (and see that she didn't hurt herself – there were things like knives and sharp counters and things she could stumble over in the dark kitchen, after all).

The Golden Hall was quiet as he made his way towards the kitchens. In few hours, the King's household would start to wake up, and the rooms and corridors and halls would fill with bustling, servants and guards going about their ways, the lively tones of Rohirric rising and falling... and laughter and squabbles and just _life._ For many years, Éomer had been more or less just a guest here: most of his time had been spent in Aldburg and on patrols, and the time he had spent in Meduseld could be counted in days. But now he was permanently settled here, and this was where he would live his days. He wouldn't have expected it before, as he had been convinced Aldburg would always retain that special place in his heart... but these days, the Golden Hall felt like _home. _He had no illusions as to why that was.

Of course there were still times when he expected to see his dear uncle there, strolling down the corridor or occupying the throne that now was Éomer's seat, but the ghosts of this place were starting to make way for living people. He was convinced the laughter of their children would chase away the last of the shadows, and the memory of Théoden King would be recalled with fond smiles instead of sadness.

These musings were interrupted when he heard the muffled sounds from the kitchens, to which he had now arrived. Ever the soldier to pick up signs of alarm, he froze to listen. But even though he held his very breath and tried to concentrate on voices, the only thing he could gather was that there was distress in his wife's voice.

And Lothíriel's distress was something that instantly set his blood on fire and prepared him for battle.

Wasting no time he barged in and cursed to himself that his sword Gúthwinë was back in their chambers, but there was no time now for him to go and get it. However, she was the love of his life and he'd protect her with his bare fists if need be.

The kitchens were mostly dark, except for the candle someone – probably Lothíriel – had lit. But it did provide enough light for Éomer to see what was taking place in the kitchens: she was there, and she had been gathering some scraps of yesterday's meal to eat, and she looked terrified. And between her and Éomer, a man stood. The Lord of the Mark was enough of a warrior to be able to read his body language, which was threatening, wild and violent.

For a moment, it confused him for he did not understand why _Captain Aradhain _of all people would seem like that, and why the Swan Knight's presence would make his wife so distressed. It was that one moment of confusion Aradhain needed. As soon as he had realised he was not alone with the Queen any longer, he violently grabbed her and turned around, so that she was something like a human shield between the King and the villain himself. With one hand, he held her in place while the other produced a knife. At last, Éomer realised who exactly had been haunting his wife ever since that night in Aldburg, and fury boiled inside him. He had trusted this man! And he had let the menace grab his wife in the very front of his eyes!

"No!" he growled and took a step towards the captain and his wife, but as soon as he did that, the knife's blade was pressed against her neck, and Éomer froze where he was.

His first instinct was to shout for help, but his yell died on his lips as Aradhain snarled: "If you call guards, she dies."

"Éomer-" she whimpered, her eyes wide with terror.

"You need to calm down, Lothíriel. Please, calm down. Think of the child. Breathe, my love. I will get you out of this, but you need to stay calm", Éomer quickly spoke to his wife in Rohirric; despite her fear, she seemed to understand. She was a fighter, after all. Then he focused his eyes on Aradhain. "I don't think you would do that. No, that's not what you want at all."

"You think you know what I want?" asked the captain, bringing his knife closer to her neck. The sight almost made Éomer lose his composure. He fixed his eyes on hers; he had to remain focused now. Not only one but two lives depended on it. Or three, for he did not know what he would do if she was somehow harmed.

"Oh, I think I know", he said, gritting his teeth – he had to play for time, come up with something... he cast a sharp look at Aradhain, "Men like you are essentially very simple."

"Is that so?" Aradhain snarled, pressing the edge of his blade to her neck, and she let out a terrified little sound.

"Please, don't hurt her. She has done nothing to you", said the King quickly as he saw the fear in her eyes grow. "Just... let her go. We can talk this through and no one has to get hurt. Please. Don't harm my wife."

"There's nothing to talk about, horselord. There never was. And never will be", growled the captain. His brown eyes were blazing with fire; he was very dangerous at the moment and very unpredictable, and one wrong word might result in Lothíriel's death. Fear was starting to take a hold now instead of fury, and Éomer had to fight to keep calm.

"Be reasonable, Aradhain. You can't leave Edoras with her. There are guards all over the place. Even if you somehow managed to get her out of Meduseld, steal a horse and have them open the gates for you, the Muster of Edoras would be after you before the sun has risen", he tried to reason with the man, but his words only made the captain sneer.

"You really would send them after me, knowing that my blade was on her neck all the time?" asked the deranged man.

"Would you sacrifice your only advantage like that?" Éomer asked back.

"Not the only one", Aradhain said, a malicious glint filling his eyes as he moved the blade from her neck to her belly. "I also happen to be in the possession of your brat, horselord."

"No!" gasped the King again. Now it was sheer panic that was threatening to take him. _No. This could not be happening. _Even this man, despite his obvious depravity, would not harm an unborn child. Would he?

Instinctively, he took a step closer to his wife and the man who was threatening her, but again he froze as he saw the knife ominously pressing against her belly.

"You stay where you are. If I see you making another move, I'm relieving this world of yet another hay-headed princeling", Aradhain growled.

"Please, Aradhain. Let her go. Don't hurt my family", Éomer pleaded. He was at his wits end now – he had no idea of how to bargain with this man. Not when the captain held in his hand the most precious things the King had in this world. He was a warrior, not a schemer!

"And nothing will happen to them, if you do exactly as I say", said the captain. "Now, I need you to go and call of the guards, and then prepare the horses, after which-"

Aradhain never got to finish his sentence, for suddenly, there was a very loud sound like _clang. _The villain's eyes rolled back, the knife dropped from his hand, and he fell limp on the floor. And there behind him stood Éowyn, eyes large and furious; she held on to the frying pan with both hands and looked like she was about to hit the man again.

Éomer had never been more glad to see his sister.

A small sob escaped Lothíriel's lips as she flew towards her husband, and he caught her and held her close – never had her shape felt more precious in the circle of his arms. She trembled as tears of relief flowed down her cheeks and he too felt like crying. Holding his wife close to himself, Éomer looked at his sister gravely, and said the only thing he could muster: "Thank you. Thank you."

"It was my utmost pleasure, brother. Outrageous! I can't believe that we're housing filth like _this!" _Éowyn ranted and kicked the unconscious man on the floor. "Oh, I think I'm going to murder him!"

"And because of what you just did, I think I'm going to let you", said the King weakly. Then he looked down at his wife, sounding just slightly frantic as he spoke: "How do you feel? Are you hurt? Is the baby all right? Should I call for Master Flód?"

"I – I'm fine. Just help me sit down. I'll be fine in a moment", she stammered, and he quickly did as she asked and carefully lifted her to sit on the counter as there were no chairs to be found in the kitchens.

"For a moment I thought he'd... he'd..." she whimpered, eyes still welling with tears as Éowyn offered her some water.

"Shh, it's all right. That man is never going to touch you again. I promise. You'll be safe", Éomer reassured, noting only very quickly that he too sounded a bit deranged at the moment. "Just tell me you're all right. If anything happens to the child-"

"I... I think the baby is fine. I don't feel anything out of ordinary. We're fine", Lothíriel said, taking deep breaths. Then, when she finally started to look a bit calmer, she looked at Éowyn. "I can't tell you how thankful I am. Really. Not just for myself, but for the little one too. You saved more than just one life tonight."

Éowyn smiled at last, though she gave the unconscious man yet another kick, again clutching her frying pan.

"I just did what anyone would have done. But you're welcome", said the White Lady of Rohan. A look of slightly mad humour came to her face as she let out a helpless laugh: "I can't tell you how _good _it felt to hit him."

"Where did you appear from, anyway? I didn't hear you enter", Éomer asked.

"Of course you didn't, because I used the door at the back. I was out riding because I couldn't sleep and meant to grab something to eat before going to bed. That was when I saw him threatening Lothíriel and you trying to reason with the villain. I found this most delightful pan, sneaked up behind him and gave him the blow of his life. I hope I killed him", said his sister and she cast a look of intense disgust at the man who still lay unmoving on the floor.

"You certainly did seem to hit him hard enough", agreed the King. He briefly considered driving one of pokers from fireplace through the captain turned dark, but that would create such a mess, and Mistress Wulfa, who was responsible for kitchens, would probably use the same poker when she came after him. "But I think he's still alive., though he'll probably be out for a while"

He poked at Aradhain with his foot and the man groaned but did not wake up. He picked up the knife from the floor; thought it did not seem the captain would wake up any time soon, he wasn't going to risk the man threatening his wife again. While Éowyn tended to his wife, Éomer found some rope, with which he tied the Aradhain's hands, just to make sure the man would not be able to try anything should he wake up some time soon. The King knew he would have to call guards, and Imrahil too, and then he'd deal with everything, but now his primary concern was making sure Lothíriel really was well.

When he returned to his wife's side, Éowyn thrust a bowl of pudding into his hands. It looked like leftovers from last night's dinner. He cast an incredulous look at his sister, wondering why of all things she'd be offering him this.

"She should eat something. It would do her well, after this shock. Mother always said sweet things take away the bite of harsh and bitter occurences", she said, and Éomer found nothing to argue with that, even though he felt she might have meant him as well as his wife. So he grabbed couple of spoons and gave one to his wife, who looked a bit like she wanted to ask if this truly was the right moment for pudding. He gave her a stern look, though.

"Eat. Then we'll get you to bed and I'll take care of this mess", he said. His wife smiled weakly and complied. Soon he was sitting beside her on the counter, she eating in silence and he taking a mouthful or two every now and then as he and Éowyn spoke in soft tones in order to make sure his wife was well and calm. His sister still wielded the frying pan and Aradhain continued his unforeseen nap on the floor, and that was how Prince Imrahil found them not five minutes later. It was quite a busy night in the kitchens of Meduseld.

It took a moment for Éomer to figure why his father-in-law looked so flabbergasted at the sight of them. Well, it was kind of an absurd setting, when one thought about it. He very nearly burst out into a hysterical fit of laughter when he realised that.

"I... I was hoping to come and make some tea, and this is... I don't understand what this is", Imrahil finally managed, looking from Éomer to Lothíriel and finally to Éowyn, until he again moved his gaze to the King of the Mark. He frowned, "is that pudding you're eating?"

"This is... I'll explain everything in a moment. We should probably call guards. Éowyn, could you perhaps escort Lothíriel to bed?" Éomer asked his sister.

"I don't want to be alone!" said his wife quickly; obviously she wasn't yet quite over the shock. That alarmed Imrahil too.

"Is something wrong here? Is it the baby?" asked the Prince worriedly. Though he had been rather shocked to learn about his daughter's pregnancy – perhaps quite rightly, as he had been forced to accept a lot of very unexpected things in a short time – it looked like he was already assuming the role of an overprotective grandfather.

"She's fine, Imrahil. My brother will explain everything", Éowyn said calmly, and then gave a gentle look at her sister-in-law. "Don't worry. Guards will watch the door and I'll stay with you as long as you want."

The commotion in the kitchens was starting to attract the attention of night guards too, and as soon as Éomer had helped his wife down from the counter, he instructed one of them to escort her and Éowyn to the royal chambers. Then he curtly ordered another man to go and alarm more guards.

Once that had been taken care of, Éomer offered Imrahil a clean spoon and some pudding.

"Here. Eat. You'll need it", he said gravely.

Hopefully that'd prevent or at least somewhat reduce the explosion that would no doubt take place as soon as the Prince heard just why the House of Eorl in its entirety had gathered around a bowl of pudding and an unconscious Swan Knight.

* * *

**A/N: **I return sooner than I thought I would, and I bring you something grave and something silly. Please, don't ask what this is. :D

Anyway, originally I meant this story would have two chapters tops but of course I should have known that plan would have to change. For one, Aradhain had to be taken care of because a thread like that can't just be left hanging (though I must say his fate here is very different than in "Heart's Desire"). Nevertheless, the next chapter will be the last one. Like I said before, I'd rather have this story wrapped up as soon as possible, and I'm thinking I'll finish this before updating "Heart's Desire", because otherwise I'd feel they kind of steal focus from each other.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**ETA 2/18/2013:** This is pretty much an answer to **Talia119's **review, but at the moment I feel it is a necessary clarification altogether for this chapter and why there's no scene showing Éomer's return to Edoras.

To be honest, I did plan to write a proper reunion, complete with reactions to the prospect of parenthood, and our lovebirds refusing to leave the bed even though there was a minor fire in Meduseld (which caused much merriment among the inhabitants of Edoras, not to mention a multitude of anecdotes especially Éothain was fond of reciting to Éomer). However, eventually I abandoned this idea for several reasons.

One reason would be the fact that this story was never supposed to be very long, and the reunion and what followed would require at least two, three chapters. And there lay the danger that I would not be able to stop, turning this into a full-length story... and one I might not be able to finish very soon. Which is not what I want, not with my two other stories still unfinished. However, I am considering the possibility of returning to this story after I'm done with "Heart's Desire" and "Lady of the Sea".

Another reason is "Heart's Desire". For one, "Marshal's Wife" and HD are both derived from same plotline, and I simply can't or want keep them both going on at the same time, not at least for very long. Essentially, this piece is supposed to go to places where HD doesn't go. And in HD there is already a reunion scene coming – one that I've been massively editing and re-writing lately. So you could say that I felt it would have been, in a way, writing the same scene all over again. Reunions are very, very emotional situations, and at the moment I simply don't have that kind of emotional energy. I've poured it all to "Heart's Desire".

So that's why there was no chapter that would have shown Éomer coming home and hearing the news of Lothíriel's pregnancy. I will leave that for your imaginations, though I can tell it was a very happy occasion for everyone (except for Aradhain perhaps).

Speaking of Aradhain, he was the reason why making this decision was hard, because his reaction would indeed have been very interesting to write, and perhaps I will return to that later. But essentially he was kept at bay because ever since the secret wedding and Éomer's departure for war, Lothíriel has had guards about her all the time, and Éomer would have let Gamling know that someone has been stalking her. And Gamling, the old wolfhound, pretty much took her safety to his heart and kept close to her while Éomer was gone. Which eventually made Aradhain frustrated enough to act like he does in his chapter. He's a liar and a pretender, but he's also very patient and scared of getting caught - hence why it took so long for him to try anything.


	4. Chapter 4

The Yule Day had been cold – colder than Lothíriel remembered from the year before. Indeed, Erfréa had commented she could not remember a Yuletide when the weather had been like this. Of course, it had earned the Queen yet another argument about the sufficiency of her clothing. Apparently her husband thought the plains of the Mark had turned into the vast ice fields of faraway north you only heard stories of, and her thick woollen gown and heavy winter cloak, rimmed with white fur, couldn't possibly keep her warm.

In the end Lothíriel had given in and stayed inside, but only because she was determined to take part at least some Yule festivities.

"But what of the child? What if you go in to labour? What if-" Éomer had asked, but she had shut him up with a kiss.

"The baby will come when it will, not any sooner. It won't make a difference whether I'm confined to bed or sitting by your side", she had told him and rested a hand on his cheek. "It's our first Yule together, beloved. And it's the first Yule in 40 years when a Queen sits beside the King in the Golden Hall. I wouldn't want to spend it bedridden."

He had relented at last, but he had insisted she'd sit the whole time. Lothíriel didn't tell him she had not planned to do anything else.

She knew that the baby should have already come. It wasn't unheard for a child to be late, but each day that passed without the little one entering this world also made the stone on her heart grow. As it was dangerous for a child to come too soon, so was it coming too late.

But now was Yule night and she did not intend to spend it worrying about things. The baby would come when the Valar so willed, and not any sooner.

Her handmaiden was adding last touches to Lothíriel's hair when Éomer strode in, already looking uncomfortable in a dark green tunic that was one of his better ones; he still preferred dressing in the thick, plain coat that he wore under his armour, though she knew Gamling's wife Héalic wouldn't stop nagging about how the King was not supposed to look like he had just crawled from the stable where his horse was. The poor woman had apparently hoped to find an ally in Lothíriel, who came from the southern courts of Gondor, but the Queen herself found it best not to try and participate in that fight. After all, Éomer _was _a man or Rohan and terribly stubborn, and altogether it didn't really matter to her how he decided to clothe himself.

"Wife", he greeted and smiled at the sight of her, and then gave her an awkward little hug from her side. Ever since her belly had started to grow, he seemed to have developed some nearly hysterical fear that he might crush the child if he embraced his wife properly. It went without saying that Lothíriel was very anxious for the child's birth, and the prospect of real intimacy with her husband was one thing she very much looked forward to. Indeed, she had a feeling that as soon as she would be able to welcome his affections, there would be something of a re-enactment of the day he had come home from war; it still made her blush when she thought of how immediately after taking care of running things, he had practically carried her to bed... and he had refused to leave their bedchamber even though there had been a fire in the kitchens. Éothain seemed to be particularly fond of reminiscing that day, and all the jokes and anecdotes that had sprung forth.

But for now Lothíriel would have to be content with waiting, though she was starting to get just slightly frustrated. And he had a feeling he felt that way too.

"How are you feeling?" Éomer asked, resting one arm about her shoulders and a hand on the top of her belly.

"I am well, beloved", Lothíriel answered and gave him a small smile; her husband gave a kiss to her temple.

"You look tired", he noted, and she knew he was already trying to come up with something to convince her to stay in bed.

"My dearest husband, it was your child that kept me awake last night. He wouldn't stop moving about", she commented and placed her hand on the top of his.

Her words made him smile.

"You think it's a boy?" he asked, standing a bit straighter as only a proud father was wont to.

"I have this feeling, yes", answered the Queen, "And if the way he kicks would imply anything, I'd say he's going to be very strong."

Her husband made a smug face at that.

"The men of House of Eorl usually are", Éomer told her, and she snorted.

"Of course, dearest husband. How could I forget that with you around?" she asked, rolling her eyes. He chuckled and kissed her, and then she placed a hand on his arm. "Is it time already?"

"Just about", he said, organising his more kingly expression on his face. But then, as he looked down at her, Éomer's face became soft again, and his eyes were alight with his affection.

"Merry Yule, wife."

Lothíriel smiled.

"Merry Yule, husband."

* * *

He had known something was wrong the moment he had seen the expression on her face.

Lothíriel had sat by him as he had asked. But suddenly her face had gone very pale, her eyes large, and her laughter dying on her lips. She looked like she had forgotten completely about the Yule celebration that was taking place about them, and he did too, as soon as he saw her expression.

It had taken several moments for her to answer his questions of what was wrong. By that time, his voice was already turning panicked and Éothain, who had been talking with Elfhelm nearby, appeared to have become alarmed too; nothing seemed to ever go unnoticed by him.

And finally, after a time that felt like a year, Lothíriel had turned to look at her husband, and a wavering little smile had appeared.

"Éomer, I think it's time. I think the baby is coming", she said quietly.

Though they had known that the baby would come any day now, his heart had still picked up speed when she uttered those words and he realised that their child was on its way. So he jumped up on his feet and bellowed to Éothain go and get Master Flód. At first, that made the noise quiet down and everyone looked at the royal couple, all of them wearing looks of intense excitement mixed with concern. Éomer grinned (a bit like someone who had just lost their mad) and called: "My good people, House of Eorl is about to receive a new member."

Something like an explosion had taken place at that. Shouting, toasting, laughing, drinking, and many well-wishes in random order. But then Master Flód had arrived to take things under control, with ladies of the household swarming behind him, as if the lot of them had been positioned somewhere just waiting for this announcement. Éomer was allowed to carry his wife to their bedchamber, but then Éowyn, wearing a look of determination, had pushed him out of the room, and they had not let him in ever since, even though he had threatened them with things like beheading.

And now, after entire quarter hour had gone by, he was pacing behind the door of the royal chamber, muttering to himself how one might have thought he weren't the King at all, what with the way no one seemed to be paying attention to him. Elfhelm, who had left the celebrations to keep him company, gave Éomer's arm a comforting little pat.

"It's no use, my king. This territory belongs to womenfolk and you'd do well to stay away. The only thing you can do now is wait", said the Marshal compassionately. A father of four himself, Elfhelm could well understand his lord's anxiety.

But then Lothíriel let out a loud, pained moan, which nearly sent Éomer through the very door (or perhaps the wall, if they tried to keep him out).

"She'll be fine. She'll make a bit of noise before it's over, but it doesn't mean she's dying", Elfhelm said quickly, which made Gamling grimace.

"Elfhelm, you're not helping", said the older man. "Go and get us some ale. This could take a while."

The Marshal complied and went along, and Gamling placed a hand on his king's shoulder.

"What do you mean, it could take a while?" Éomer asked, his voice panicked despite of his attempts to sound calm and controlled.

"You haven't observed a childbirth before, my lord? From what I gather, it's not entirely different from foaling... but you shouldn't probably say that to your wife because she might get offended – women are sensitive like that. Anyway, you know it is not always a quick thing, being born into this world", said the old rider. Then his face turned gentler, "Don't worry, Éomer. It's a lucky child, to be born on Yule night."

"Will it make her lucky too?" asked the King, unable to hide his fear. "I don't know what I'll do if she's not going to be all right. I am... she is... she..."

"Your wife will be fine, lad. She's in good hands", Gamling reassured him. Then Elfhelm arrived with a barrel of ale and all they could do was wait. Éomer's Marshals tried to come up with something of a chat with him, but they soon realised their king wasn't currently much of a conversationalist; rather, he was more interested in pacing about restlessly, then stopping to brood to himself and perhaps consume a mug of ale, and then pace some more. Erkenbrand and Éothain came to keep company for them too, and together they watched as the women hurried back and forth from the royal chambers. Things like clean linen and hot water was carried there and they wore faces of intense concentration as they went about – faces that did not betray anything that might have hinted as to how it was going in the bedchamber.

As he paced about, Éomer thought of the day he had come home from war. He remembered riding up the hill, towards the Golden Hall... seeing her there on the stone terrace, he had very nearly ridden up the steps. She had come running at him, laughing and crying at the same time and he had loved her so much, his dear wife... _his wife_. And he had caught her in his arms, spinning her about in air. When he had pulled her close to him, she would not stop kissing his face.

Then, finally, she had whispered it, like it was a beautiful secret she could not hide any longer: _"Welcome home, husband __of mine__... __and __father __of my child__." _

His heart had missed a beat when the realisation had sunk in. _He would become a father. _

And he had laughed out loud, spinning her and himself about once more until they were both dizzy, and he didn't think he had ever been as happy as on that day. It was a memory he knew he'd always cherish.

But now he was scared, for he had no way of knowing of how things would turn out, and if his wife and their child would be all right. Éomer was a man of action, but here none of his skills as a warrior and a warleader meant nothing. It was frustrating and kind of terrifying, for there was absolutely nothing he could do. He was helpless and that was a feeling he did not take pleasure in. And he knew women did not always survive childbirth; his own aunt, Théoden's wife Elfhild, had died giving birth to Théodred.

That could not happen now. No, not to Lothíriel. He could not lose her – if he did, terrible things would happen.

The night grew old. In the hall, celebrations of the Yule night were carried on in the most exhilarated atmosphere, and the sounds of laughing and singing were carried all the way to the corridor where Éomer was waiting along with his faithful Marshals. It sounded like the prospect of the birth of an heir was making everyone beyond merry.

"You can go and join the others, if you want to", Éomer told his Marshals, who were sat by a barrel of ale. "I fear I'm not the best company right now."

"Nonsense, Éomer. Yule nights will come and go, but your child doesn't enter this world every other day. We will stay with you", said Erkenbrand, and the others made vague sounds of agreement. It moved the young King more than he could have ever told them and he was thankful; so much actually that he could not speak. So he just looked upon his brothers in arms and hoped that they understood.

And like they promised, they stayed with him, until the celebration in the hall ended and the night fell, though it was doubtful much sleep was had that night in Meduseld.

Couple hours after midnight Lothíriel's shouts became more frequent and listening to them, Éomer couldn't help but drive his fist repeatedly into the wall and dig his nails into his palms until they drew blood. But then at last she screamed for one more time and fell silent, and the men held their breath... and it came then, the scream of a new-born child.

"I'm a father! I'm a father!" Éomer repeated time and again as his eyes welled with tears, and his men rose up to congratulate him. Erkenbrand even went as far as giving him a mighty bear hug that nearly crushed the young King's lungs and left him gasping for air. Éothain grinned madly, as did Elfhelm, and Gamling watched over them a bit like an old father watched a gang of boys.

Finally, after a time that felt unbearably long, Master Flód appeared at the doorway, a gentle little smile on his usually serious face.

"You may come in now, Éomer King", he said, and that was all he needed. Éomer practically flew past the man, and then to the bedchamber, until he finally saw his wife.

They had already changed the bed sheets and dressed her In a pale blue nightgown. She looked pale and tired and at first he thought she was sleeping, but at the sound of his steps she opened her eyes. Though she looked thoroughly exhausted, there was also this warm look in her eyes... she was happy.

"Lothíriel", he managed, as his voice did not seem to allow much speaking at the moment.

"Éomer", she greeted him as he took her hand in his own.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"I am. Just tired", said the Queen and smiled at him. Even as pale and tired and after a childbirth, she was a sight to set his heart aflame. _Oh, she was beautiful. _"And you, my love?"

"Fine", he uttered, placing a kiss on the palm of her hand. Her eyes focused on something behind him, and he turned; Éowyn was standing there, with a small bundle in her arms. There was a huge smile on her face and her eyes sparkled as she lulled the child.

"Here's your son, brother", she said softly and lay the little prince in the arms of his father. Carefully, he held the baby, all the while fearing his large warrior's hands might hurt this helpless little thing.

A small, kind of strange sob escaped Éomer's lips when he felt the slight weight of a tiny human being in his arms. _His son. _They had wrapped the child in a green cloth, and he was asleep now. His skin still glowed ruddy and on the top of his head, there was a shock of dark hair.

"I have a son!" said the King in weak astonishment and wonder. Beaming at his wife, he held the baby close to his chest. They had only just given this small thing to him and he already loved it fiercely, and he knew that there was nothing he would not do to defend and protect this child, just like he'd stop at nothing for his wife. _His child. _Her _child. __**Their **__child. _

"Send word for Aragorn and Imrahil. They must be notified immediately", he said to his sister, his voice wavering. "And send riders to all reaches of Rohan, and have them shout that the Mark has an heir!"

"I will see to it, brother", Éowyn promised, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We'll leave you three alone for a bit. Someone will be outside, in case you need something."

But Éomer barely heard, for he was staring at the face of his son, fearing that his heart might just burst from all the love he had for these people and for life itself.

Silence finally fell in the chamber and the King of the Mark was left with his family. After a while, he looked at his wife, who was watching him with half-open eyes.

"He's beautiful", she said softly, and the smile was rather in her eyes than on her lips, "isn't he?"

"He is", he answered, reaching his free hand to gently squeeze hers. Another helpless sob betrayed him, and the tears were blinding his vision once again. "Our son. I can hardly believe it. I didn't think I'd ever get to see this day."

"I know", she said softly, her fingers curling about his. "But we are here, now. Together."

"Together", he agreed and placed a kiss on her knuckles. Lothíriel smiled, and then her eyes fell on the sleeping child.

"I'd like to hold him for a bit", said his wife, and carefully he lifted the baby, placing their son in the crook of her arm. The baby never woke up but carried on with his peaceful sleep – a perfect picture of untainted innocence. And the sight of the two of them, his wife and his son, almost made the King of Rohan weep like a young maiden.

"He's going to look like you, I think", he said and kept his tears at bay, as that might have scared her or woken up the child.

"Perhaps", Lothíriel said, looking at their child. She smiled, "but he's going to be tall and strong like you."

"And hopefully as blessed as myself", Éomer softly spoke, and he stood up to tuck the covers better about his wife and the baby. "Go to sleep, beloved. You look very tired."

"So do you", she pointed out.

"I... I think I'll sit for a while. _Lýtling _will probably wake up soon and need something", said the King; though his body may be tired, his mind was racing too fast to even consider sleep at the moment.

"Mmm. You shouldn't stay up all the night", Lothíriel said, her voice already sleepy.

"I won't", he reassured her. He leant down to kiss her and brushed his hand across her cheek. "Sleep well, dear wife."

She smiled and then her eyes fluttered close, and Éomer was left watching over his family. And for a long time he did just sit, watching the two sleeping people on the bed, and listening to their even breathing.

Looking at his child again, Éomer knew many things would change now and he'd have to assume new kind of responsibility.. and he would have to teach his son to be a good king, which scared him. After all, a year ago this time he had not even thought he'd ever even sit on the throne of the Mark. And as he looked at the small human being that slept by his wife, he realised this child was and would be his legacy, and that the kind of father he would be might also have its impact on the course of future. Then his eyes fell on his wife, and her peaceful face consoled him just like it always did... he thought to himself that as long as she was there, he could do anything. And the baby that now slept by her was _her _child too. They'd raise their son together, and he knew she'd be a great mother.

_Together. _Yes, that was a word larger and stronger than any struggle there might be in the future.

And so, as the night turned into a new day and the light grew outside, he was with the two things he most loved in this world and all was well. Future might yet bring hardships and struggles, but he knew _this _was what he would fight for... and for the moment, Éomer King of Rohan was truly at peace.

_THE END._

* * *

**A/N: **And there you have it. The Lion and his lady have their cub, and all is well in the kingdom of Rohan. After all, this is not really supposed to be one of those very conflicted stories (another reason why this is so short).

The child would be Elfwine, though canonically he was probably born during the Fourth Age. But I'm breaking canon with this storyline anyway, so hopefully I'm not going to be murdered for that.

People have commented how they'd have liked to seen a proper encounter complete with fluff and sexytimes afterwards, but as I already said in last chapter's Author's Note, I eventually decided not to write that chapter. That's something for "Heart's Desire", as this piece is supposed to go to places where HD doesn't. I see how that is disappointing and perhaps I will return to this story once "Heart's Desire" is done, but I won't make any promises. See the last chapter's A/N for a longer explanation.

Just to conclude couple of hanging threads: Erchirion's visit to Rohan went mostly well as soon as he got changed into dry clothes, and like he told Éomer in the chapter 2, he was fine with his sister's choice to wed Éomer. His talk with Lothíriel confirmed this and he was able to return home with a word that Lothíriel was happy and very loved in Rohan. Imrahil's initial reaction was mostly positive, but I think he sometimes felt he had made a mistake in sending Lothíriel to Rohan, for he missed her tremendously, as did Aredhel. But as he saw she was happy, he never said anything. As for why exactly he was in Edoras in the last chapter, apparently I derped again and thought it was somehow obvious why he was there. The explanation for his presence is that Théoden King's funeral took place in August, which is also when chapter 3 happens. So Imrahil would have been in Meduseld to pay his respects to the deceased king and also to visit his daughter (Éomer had not let her travel to Minas Tirith, because he was an overprotective father-to-be).

As for Aradhain, some arguments were had about where he should be brought to justice, as he had assaulted the Queen of Rohan, but eventually it was agreed that he'd be brought to Minas Tirith and Aragorn would attend to the matter. This was decised as a compromise, though certain parties grumbled to themselves how they'd have liked to either feed the captain to wargs or the fish. But in the end let's just say that Aradhain got what was coming for him and he never stalked anyone again.

All the same, for now this is all I have to say about this story, and I hope you liked it! Big thanks for all who took time to read this!

* * *

_Lýtling _= little one

* * *

**memory bleeds - **You are right in noting that Aradhain's reaction is mostly just disapproving in the chapter 2, but remember: that is what _Lothíriel _sees. It's from her point of view, so she doesn't know what he's actually thinking. Aradhain is, if anything, a liar and a pretender, and he's good at that... at least when he is able to contain himself. For a captain of his rank it would be odd to react in any other way. So he keeps his calm, though I can tell you he was at that point very angry. Another reason is because he doesn't want to get caught. He's the kind of person to sneak about in the dark, and so he wears the mask and only strikes when he thinks he can get away with it.

As for why Éomer figures her stalker is Aradhain is because he does know someone has been stalking her (the incident back in Aldburg, chapter 6, and later when Gríma had Éomer imprisoned, Lothíriel came to see him and told someone had been behind her door the other night, chapter 13), and he has had his own suspicions whether that man ever went away. After all, it's not so likely that she'd have multiple stalkers after her, so Éomer figures that the man who assaults her in the middle of the night when no one else is around is probably the same person who has bothered her before.

Hope this clears your confusion!


End file.
